


Fade Away

by lifeinthebox



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Choi Luciel Angst, Abusive Rika (Mystic Messenger), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, College Student MC, Everyone else older accordingly, F/M, Jaehee and Zen are not in the RFA, Jumin is 28-29, MC is related to Jaehee, Mint Eye, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rika/V | Kim Jihyun, RFA Party (Mystic Messenger), Rating May Change, Slow Romance, So 707 is 24-25, Tags Are Hard, Yoosung is a Senior, and so forth - Freeform, kind of coffee shop AU?, kind of college au?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinthebox/pseuds/lifeinthebox
Summary: What's a girl to do when chaos bursts into her life?Sometimes, she just has to embrace it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Three notes: 1) 707’s social etiquette is bad. He's informal, intrusive, and often presumptuous. That’s intentional: 707's social etiquette isn’t great in the game, either. This also applies to Yoosung, in places. 2) I use the characters given names, as the English version does, but that's bending social etiquette on my part. I'm not confident in the intricacies of Korean honorifics and I don't want to misuse them. 3) I fully admit I was inspired to write this by the themes of Satoshi Kon’s work. The dark psychological elements seem to mesh well. That said, Kon’s work is Japanese and MM is Korean. I reference Kon's work thematically, but the cultural contexts are distinct, and the setting is still South Korea. I’m also not including a crossover tag, because I’m talking broad themes here, but if someone thinks “Huh, that seems reminiscent of Kon's...,” that's the reason and I wanted to credit it up front.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Gyuri turned the campus map over in front of her. “It has to be around here, it’s in the center!”

Today was not going as planned. Gyuri had gotten up in plenty of time, caught the early bus, and she’d made it to her first two classes by the skin of her teeth. Now she’d been searching across campus for more than half an hour, and she felt more lost than before. Gyuri wondered where she had gone wrong.

“Ok…that one,” Gyuri made a decision with no conviction.

Racing into the building on her left and struggling to keep her bag over her shoulder, Gyuri quietly cheered to herself when the sign in the foyer welcomed her.Straightening her short black hair, rumpled clothes, and sagging bag, Gyuri quietly weaved through the tides of university students. Groups of students were chatting between themselves on their way to lectures while couples tucked themselves into study alcoves for a quick meeting, leaving the halls buzzing and packed. 

“Room 378…378…” Gyuri dodged a girl absorbed in her phone. “378…”

The classroom was buried at the end of a hallway. Gyuri sighed in relief at the sparse number of students in the hall’s seats. The sigh twisted into anxiety when the eyes in the room turned to her in unison. A pair of girls whispered to themselves about something, making Gyuri comb back her hair a second time just in case she had missed a spot. By bad luck, these students already seemed to have formed familiar clusters without her. Slinking to the back of the classroom, Gyuri picked a desk at the far corner. 

Safe from the rush, Gyuri tried to get her bearings. In spite of her best efforts, her bag was a complete disaster. Fishing out a rapidly wrinkling notebook and fresh mechanical pencils, Gyuri dug past the heavy sociology textbook from her last class…and groped the bottom of her bag.

“No, no, no,” Gyuri clawed through spare notebooks, pencils, hair ties, and her computer. “I had it this morning. I know I had it this morning!”

Gyuri’s growling stomach sank through the floor. She had had her linguistics book that morning. She had taken it out of her bag on the bus to reread the first chapter in preparation. She had been sure to tuck the book into her bag as she scrambled for the door. Gyuri recalled the book falling from her fingers amongst the clatter on the bus. She also recalled wrestling less with her bag afterward and attributing it to being off the bus. 

“That’s…that’s just…perfect,” Gyuri swallowed down a cursed lump in her throat and slowly took out her wallet. It was too light for another textbook. It was just full enough to buy a cheap lunch in the cafeteria this week. Peeling the few bills out of the flap, Gyuri counted them hopelessly. “It’ll only take...weeks. Maybe less, for a used one.”

Except the book was a new edition. Swallowing mightily to be safe, Gyuri could see herself rounding out her humiliation in tears. Her budget was painstakingly planned. She didn’t have the option of ignoring a lost textbook; she didn’t have the money for a new one. 

“You _just_ bought it,” Gyuri scolded herself to stay angry. “Way to go, you-“

Gyuri hastily shut her mouth and shoved her wallet out of sight when a young man collapsed heavily into the chair next to her.Sliding her notebook and scattered pencils closer through a stifled sniff, Gyuri prayed that the young man had mistaken her for someone else and would leave as suddenly as he had invaded.

From the glance she stole of him, it didn’t seem like it. Boasting a shock of tousled red hair set off by orange headphones and striped glasses, the young man seemed perfectly comfortable in the seat next to her. He looked generally comfortable, stretching out in a loose jacket and jeans, a silver cross swinging from a simple tie around his neck. Obliviously continuing his intrusion, the young man tossed a single notebook on the desk, followed by a short pencil and a mockingly new linguistic textbook. Drawing the chord of his headphones tight between his fingers, the young man looked over at Gyuri.

He’d caught her. His gold eyes unquestionably caught hers, his eyebrow just starting to quirk before Gyuri looked away. Gyuri yanked her notebook to the front of her desk and opened it firmly, writing the date at the top of the first page and poising her pencil as if the lecture had already started. The young man was still watching her, looking at her pencil curiously when it fell still with nothing to add.

“You probably have a few minutes,” he observed, twisting the headphone chord into a spiral. “This can’t even be half the class.”

“I like being organized,” Gyuri reasoned. Trying to appear busy, Gyuri started writing down everything she could remember from her reading that morning. It would be a poor substitute if she got caught, but it might buy her a sliver of mercy if she had to look unprepared. 

The man was still watching, propping his foot against the opposite knee and pretending to look around the room before resuming his curious snooping over Gyuri’s shoulder. Gyuri wrote faster, her writing uneven and sprawling the more frantically she dumped out anything she could remember before it started to disappear in a cloud of nerves.

“Then where’s your book? Did you forget it?” the man observed keenly, pushing an escaping pencil back in front of Gyuri.

“No,” Gyuri snapped.

“Did you not buy it yet? It takes a while if you order it late,” the boy warned conversationally.

“I bought it. I just…yeah, I forgot it,” Gyuri savagely underlined a sentence at random.

“But you just said you didn’t. How can you forget something you haven’t forgotten? Sounds like a riddle.”

Gyuri continued writing in silence, hoping the young man would get the hint. It was none of his business. Forgotten or lost, the textbook wasn’t here, and that was Gyuri’s personal problem. 

The young man lost interest. Leaning over the desk, the young man started to write in his own notebook, the light scratch of his pencil lazy in comparison, more mockery beside the textbook he was ignoring. Crowds of students filed in, slowly filling up the available desks until Gyuri’s silent plea that the young man find another seat seemed a distant possibility.

“Scientifically,” the young man started talking to himself. “Students retain information better when they write it down in their own way. Direct copying parrots what they’ve read, but parrots don’t do well on tests. Imitation isn’t comprehension, y’know? Students writing everything longhand in their own words is a great study strategy, professor approved.”

“Unless you have a photographic memory. Then it’s a waste of time,” the young man kept musing nonsensically, as if he didn’t notice Gyuri’s burgeoning aggravation. “But only a really small percentage of the population has that. That’s why it’s good to have textbooks to look back to. They have an entire team making sure everything gets copied down right. Usually. I found 7 errors in one chapter of a textbook once. I wrote to the publishers, I don’t know if they got fixed.”

“But I’m usually pro-textbook,” Gyuri could have sworn she saw the young man smirk to himself when her pencil stopped moving. “Kids these days, it’s the only time they read, between phones, and computers, and TVs. Reading is a dying art.”

“Why are you talking about this?” Gyuri had to ask, before the young man launched on in his confusing speech.

“You don’t have a textbook,” the young man shrugged neutrally. “It got me thinking about it. I’ve never met someone with a photographic memory.”

“I don’t have a photographic memory.” 

“Oh,” the young man only sounded mildly disappointed. “I thought you might. I’d rewrite textbooks if _I_ had a photographic memory. Make them more fun.”

The young man offered her a conspiratorial smile, seeming to think they had entered a partnership somewhere in the last 5 minutes. 

“I’m not…I’m just taking notes in case the reading comes up,” Gyuri resumed writing, having to erase half the sentence she had lost track of. 

“But what if you get something wrong?” the young man looked at her, shock in every line in his face. His gold eyes snapped with light. He was making fun of her. As if to confirm her suspicions, a sideways grin tugged at the young man’s mouth. “Studying hard is one thing, but isn’t it better to check yourself? With the textbook?”

This frustratingly inquisitive young man scanned the desk pointedly. Gyuri felt herself start to blush. Her neck became covered in a prickling heat that climbed up to her face. She must be beet red in a cocktail of embarrassment, confusion, and frustration. Why was everything suddenly going wrong? After a promising start that morning, everything seemed to be bent on proving her foolish.

Deciding to ignore the young man’s continued gape, Gyuri turned to a fresh page and angled her shoulder so the young man couldn’t snoop. It was useless now. The swirling conversation had chased whatever she might have remembered out of her head, and now all she saw was the lost book on the floor of the bus to be kicked aside or tripped over or ruined by wet shoes.

“Here.”

Gyuri glanced back in spite of herself, just in time to see the young man push his crisp textbook onto her side of the desk. Now the young man was pointedly absorbed in his notebook, his pencil strokes determined. Looking up sharply as if surprised to find her still sitting there, the young man offered another crooked smile and a, “Just in case,” to Gyuri before hunching over his work.

“I…it’s…” Gyuri considered the textbook enviously. An older man appeared in the doorway of the classroom and cast an authoritative look over the room. Too late. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m Seven,” the young man flicked an informal wave.

“G-Gyuri,” Gyuri blurted and nodded on reflex to the strange greeting.

“Everyone please take your seats,” the gentleman at the front of the room instructed simply. 

The hall fell quiet to let the professor launch into his lecture without ceremony. Gyuri hastily dated her page anew, carefully leaving the textbook at the border between her desk and the strange Seven. To her surprise, Seven seemed enraptured, his pencil moving tirelessly as the professor spoke. Gyuri relaxed in the wake of Seven's cheerful chaos. She could handle classes if she concentrated. The lecture was brisk, but Gyuri began recalling lines from the text the longer the professor talked, following the lecture with reassuring ease. 

The entire class stiffened in shock when the door eased open slowly. A small young man slid through the narrow crack, his bright blonde hair and blue shirt highlighting him against the blackboard.

“Heh,” Seven chuckled under his breath. “Busted, Yoosung.”

The blonde young man hunched as if trying to shrink at the front of the room. His purple eyes combed over the classroom, stopping in a wide stare when they got to Gyuri’s corner. Seven raised a hand just above the desk and wiggled his fingers; he was grinning from ear to ear. Gyuri wasn't even sure th blonde man comprehended the odd gesture.

“Name?” the professor growled bitterly.

“Kim. Yoosung Kim,” Yoosung gulped guiltily. “I’m sorry. I got lost.”

“Stop gawping and have a seat,” the professor ordered, marking something down. “This is your only warning: I don’t accept late students after the first day.”

Yoosung lurched up the center aisle to a soft chorus of whispers. Diving into the free seat across from Seven, Yoosung took out his notebook while glaring daggers across the aisle. Watching Seven smirking to himself while he resumed his diligent writing, Gyuri wondered how she had attracted such a disastrous desk mate.

The lecture ran on, forcing Gyuri to forget the oddity sitting next to her and the fuming Yoosung shooting dirty looks in his direction. In spite of his aura of calamity, Seven wrote tirelessly, never once reaching for the textbook to look at the diagrams the professor referenced even when Gyuri angled the book his way,or changing his hunched posture when the professor posed a question. More than once, Gyuri heard Seven mumble the answer to himself, never pausing or looking up as he did so.

Seven ended his last line of writing with a savage stab just as the professor finished talking. Gyuri stole a look at the pile of pages Seven had left in his wake, at least 3 more pages than she had gone through. Worse, Seven didn’t even seem interested. Flipping the pencil around his thumb, Seven closed the notebook firmly and lounged back in his seat throughout the professor’s preface for the next assignment. Looking down at her crooked notes, Gyuri wondered how a man named Seven, who crashed around as he pleased and looked entirely unbothered, could be so easily confident. The professor dismissed the class shortly, stalking out of the room.

“Thank-” Gyuri extended the borrowed textbook.

“Seven!!!!”

Gyuri was left holding the textbook as Yoosung slammed his hands down on the desk from the opposite side, glaring at Seven furiously. Seven was still nonplussed. He was cheerfully waving again and his grin was firmly in place. Gyuri eyed the space between Seven’s chair and the rear wall, wondering if she could drop the book and run. But that was _rude_.

“Heya, Yoosung,” Seven greeted. “I was looking for you.”

“Then why did you sit back _here_?!” Yoosung wailed, his bright purple eyes swimming with betrayal. 

“ _You_ were late,” Seven pointed accusingly. “The seats were filling up fast.”

Seven brushed a finger across his mouth and nose. Gyuri assumed he was adjusting his glasses until his eyes found hers in another conspiratorial look out of the corner of his eye. Wait, how had she become involved? And why was he lying at all? There had been enough seats at the front from what she had seen. But this was none of her business. She wanted nothing more to do with this vermillion tornado of a man.

“The raid ran long! You could have just waited outside,” Yoosung responded petulantly.

“Ah, I’m being rude,” Seven bolted upright in his seat in revelation. Motioning to Yoosung, Seven explained to Gyuri, “May I introduce Yoosung Kim. College senior, and game addict.”

“I am _not_ -“

“Yoosung Kim, let me introduce Gyuri…” Seven trailed off, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Laughing in embarrassment Gyuri struggled to believe, Seven admitted, “I didn’t get your full name.”

“Kang,” Gyuri informed for Yoosung’s benefit. “Gyuri Kang.”

“Kang! Yoosung Kim,” Seven pointed at Yoosung, whose mouth was flapping in indignation. “Gyuri Kang. We were sharing a textbook because _someone_ forgot theirs. Oops.”

“I did not…” Gyuri caught herself and held the book out to Seven. “Thank—“ 

“I am not a game addict!” Yoosung continued shouting over both of them at full speed. “This raid was really important, and you were going to meet me, and you didn’t, and-“

“And you were late,” Seven finished. “And now, _you’re_ being rude. I’m surprised at you!”

Yoosung’s teeth clacked together so hard Gyuri winced. Seven’s last observation seemed to strike a blow, breaking Yoosung out of his cloud of indignation. His wide eyes turned to Gyuri, startlingly purple and somehow already apologetic. He didn’t look like a college senior. He looked at least a year younger with his pale bangs flopping out of their bobby pins and a gathering of bright buttons on his shirt. Gyuri almost felt bad for him, with his face still a flustered pink. A selfish pocket of Gyuri found comfort in someone looking overwhelmed next to her.

“Sorry,” Yoosung bowed his head. “I should have introduced myself. I’m Yoosung Kim. It’s nice to meet you!”

“Gyuri Kang,” Gyuri repeated, finding a smile. Yoosung was so earnest, looking even younger with his eyes pleadingly wide. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Yoosung smiled brightly. Next to Seven’s wide grin and sardonic drawl, Yoosung looked almost angelic. No, Gyuri felt bad for that. Seven’s style of conversation was…unorthodox, but he seemed friendly in his own way. Preferably from a distance.

“I didn’t mean to disturb class,” Yoosung admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want to miss the first day.”

“I know the feeling,” Gyuri assured. “The classroom was hard to find.”

“Right?! I would have been on time if it had been on the first floor.”Blushing again, Yoosung quickly added, “It’ll be good to know someone in this class. I was struggling to keep up in the last few minutes.”

“Me too,” Gyuri admitted. “Maybe we can exchange notes, see if we missed anything?”

“Sure!”

Yoosung lit up in relief at the simple offer. Finally, Gyuri’s smile back felt natural. Yoosung radiated energy in all directions, infectiously cheerful as easily as he had been explosively angry. It was the first mostly sensible conversation, beyond pleasantries, that Gyuri had had all day. She couldn't help but like him for that.

“Anyway,” Gyuri remembered, proffering the book to Seven a third time. “Thank you—“

“Let me guess: you didn’t eat during the raid,” Seven was back to talking to Yoosung, apparently. Seven rose from his seat, taller than Yoosung by a couple inches and making the other man look even younger.

“No…I was going to grab something, but I forgot,” Yoosung admitted sadly. Looking around the mostly empty classroom, Yoosung's gaze fell back to Gyuri. The other students had drifted off, calling to friends across the room or meeting them in the hallway with shouts of recognition. Yoosung obviously knew Seven well. And Gyuri was sitting alone in a corner. Gyuri’s positive feelings curdled over Yoosung’s obvious pity. Forcing another smile in Yoosung’s direction, Gyuri swept her supplies into her bag and waited for Seven to follow Yoosung and free her from this hell.

“Do you mind if we stop in the cafeteria?” Yoosung asked Seven, hitching his bag up on his back and stepping into the aisle expectantly. “I should go shopping, but I need food _now_.”

“I’ve brought my baby, so I could give you a ride. But…I haven’t seen cafeteria slop in awhile…and my maid is tearing apart my apartment,” Seven shrugged. “Let’s go.”

Seven kicked his chair in to follow Yoosung, finally clearing the way out. New students were drifting into the class, taking their seats and shooting judgmental looks at the trio left. Gyuri slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to hurry to the coffee shop and feel competent at work. Stepping around Seven’s chair as he and Yoosung descended the stairs to the door, Gyuri caught sight of Seven’s book out of the corner of her eye, teetering on the edge.

“Hey!” Gyuri scooped the book up. “S…Seven…you forgot-“

“Yeah, Yoosung,” Seven elbowed Yoosung. “I thought you were going to invite her. Rude, _again_.”

“I was! I thought she was going to walk out with us!” Yoosung squawked. Beckoning to Gyuri, Yoosung clarified, “It’s a little late, but do you want to grab some lunch with us?”

Yoosung trotted back up the steps like an expectant puppy.His request and expression seemed startling genuine, cutting through Gyuri’s initial suspicion that it was pity. Seven stayed where he was, standing crookedly with one hand in his pocket and the other pointing toward the door. He saw the book, he had too, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. Gyuri held out the book desperately, only for Seven to wave his hand carelessly.

“We can talk about class over lunch,” Seven decided, already heading out the door.

Yoosung nodded, waiting until Gyuri fell in step with him to follow his friend. The choice seemed out of her hands. It would be rude to refuse the invitation after they had made a point of including her, whatever their reasons.  Yoosung started lamenting his tardiness at length, including both Gyuri and Seven with his volume.Talking seemed to come naturally to Yoosung. Gyuri struggled to keep up with most of what Yoosung was saying as his excuses suddenly included monsters and loot boxes before launching into an explanation of a game that Gyuri guessed was called LOLOL after Yoosung said it five times.

“Did you…win?” Gyuri finally asked tentatively as Seven led them to a table.

“Yeah!” Yoosung proclaimed proudly. “But most of the other players were low levels, so it wasn’t really a challenge. Do you play?”

“Some video games, but not that one,” Gyuri admitted, guiltily counting the change from lunch into her wallet. She’d have to try and pick up an extra shift this week to compensate. “You sound good.”

“I’m ranked second,” Yoosung confirmed, poking his lunch uncertainly. “He’s ranked first, but he cheats.”

Seven dug into a bag of chips next to Yoosung, nonchalantly explaining, “I don’t cheat. I _could_ cheat. But I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you,” Yoosung insisted. Wiping off his mouth, Yoosung stopped to explain, “Seven’s an expert with computers. He can hack into anything.”

“Shhhhh,” Seven hissed, pressing his finger to his lips firmly. “It’s not cool if you blab to everyone.”

“Isn’t hacking illegal?” Gyuri pointed out, slowly sliding the book over to Seven’s side of the table.

“Technically,” Seven didn’t seem bothered. “But I work with computers, it’s part of my totally legitimate job. And I only use it for peace, love, and justice!”

Seven adjusted his glasses importantly, the picture of noble sincerity. Gyuri still wasn’t sure she believed him. Yoosung pursed his lips, rolling his eyes at Gyuri to confirm her doubt. Seven looked down when the textbook nudged his arm. Gyuri pointedly ignored him, tucking into her fried rice without acknowledging the book's existence. Taking a swig of his soda, Seven rested his elbow on the book, his eyes flashing at Gyuri from behind his glasses.

“Do you work together?” Gyuri quickly asked, popping a bite of kimchi into her mouth. 

Flicking his eyes down at the book between them, Seven’s eyes narrowed, joined by the beginning of his unshakable smirk. Gyuri blinked back innocently. This guy seemed to like making people’s lives difficult; after a difficult day, Gyuri was willing to play that game.

“Nah,”Seven broke the stare, his smile sliding on just the same. Slinging his arm over Yoosung’s shoulder, Seven teased, “Yoosung thinks gaming is a job.”

“I’m looking for a job,” Yoosung corrected, ducking out from under Seven’s arm. “What about you, Gyuri?”

“I work at my cousin’s cafe,” Gyuri admitted. “I’m lucky, my cousin offered me a job when I transferred.”

“Wow,” Yoosung seemed too impressed. Wiping rice off of his mouth, Yoosung asked, “You can bake?”

“A little.” Jaehee was the brains behind the cafe’s creations, but Gyuri was learning fast. She could handle the simplest recipes when Jaehee needed help during a rush.

“So, why are you in a linguistics course?” Seven asked. “International expansion? Overseas exports?”

Propping his chin on his hand, Seven cocked his head quizzically. Gyuri considered his questions over a carefully chewed mouthful. She wondered if Seven didn’t realize how he sounded when he talked. Next to Yoosung’s constant energy, angry or cheerful, Seven’s burst out in jarring concentration between lapses into pensive quiet. His question sounded light, he smile was still in place and seemed friendly, but the fluctuating energy threw Gyuri off balance the same way his meandering speech had in the classroom. Both young men were  _loud_ , but Yoosung's volume seemed open and unconscious in a way Gyuri understood. Seven's abrupt questions sounded random, but hit with a strange precision. 

“No. I’m studying International Relations. But I thought the course would be interesting,” Gyuri felt a need to justify herself. Seven leaned back in his seat, taking some of his pinpointed energy with him.

“Ah, makes sense,” Seven nodded wisely. 

The spike of energy dissipated, leaving Gyuri to wonder if her nerves were getting the better of her and she was overthinking things as a result. Seven _had_ caught her at a bad moment, and Gyuri had raised her guard fast to try and compensate. She had never been good at meeting strangers so suddenly. Seven had continued nodding as she thought, observing simply, “I took some political science courses. It helps to know that stuff in my job. Just in case.”

And in an instant, the odd energy was back. Seven sounded offhand, tossing confusion into the conversation as if it was a comprehensible anecdote. Gyuri knew many people who worked with computers, and very few of them claimed to be hackers or had a real interest in international policy and political theory. Yoosung was uninterested, clearing away the food on his tray and burrowing into his bag. Seven wove his headphone chord through his fingers, flashing the same wide smile to Gyuri as before.

“Why are you taking linguistics if you’re in computers?” Gyuri pried for something to say.

“Programming _is_ a language,” Seven answered without hesitation. “I figured sitting in couldn’t hurt. Yoosung, want my notes from what you missed?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yoosung snatched the notebook Seven dangled from one hand.

Seven relinquished the notebook and turned back to his bag of chips. Gyuri couldn't call him _rude_...exactly. He was direct in his questions and offers, and his sense of humor was certainly unfamiliar, but first impressions usually were. He had to have a sense of politeness or good-nature to lend help to her and Yoosung so readily. To Gyuri’s continued confusion, Yoosung’s face fell as soon as he opened the notebook. Thumbing through the full pages, Yoosung’s expression sank further and further with each turn.

“I can’t read this,” Yoosung complained, tipping the book for Gyuri to see. “This isn’t even Korean!”

It wasn’t. The pages were coated in minuscule 0s and 1s. Gyuri flipped the page without thinking, trying to decode the series of endless numbers or pick out a character buried on the page. Nothing. Two hours of feverish writing, and it was indecipherable. Pulling the notebook closer, Gyuri hurriedly flipped through the book from the back cover, finding only blank pages until the wall of numbers.

“I know it isn't Korean,” Seven laughed into his soda can. “It’s binary.”

“ _Why?!_ ” Yoosung bellowed.

“Why?” Gyuri echoed in utter disbelief.

“I was bored. I wanted to see if I could keep up with the lecture,” Seven said it as if it were obvious. “I couldn’t, but I think I got enough to cover for you being late.”

“I can’t use these!” Yoosung threw the book at Seven furiously, out of Gyuri's reach.

“No, no, you can!” Seven insisted brightly. “Just find a key, there’re tons online.”

“I don’t want a key, I want notes I can read!!” 

“You _can_ read these. It’s good practice, and you’ll get a new talent.”

“I. Don’t. Want…”

Yoosung visibly gave up. Pushing the useless notebook away into Seven’s lap, Yoosung entire body slumped in defeat. Perpetually unperturbed, Seven patted the notebook proudly before tucking it away under the textbook. Yet again, Gyuri wondered if he was serious. It sounded impressive, in the same odd way Seven’s hacking sounded impressive, but Gyuri couldn’t imagine Seven translating that fast. Before Gyuri summoned the courage to ask, she realized Yoosung was staring at her.

Uh oh. 

Yoosung’s eyes had somehow gotten larger, peircing into Gyuri across the table in a silent plea she couldn’t escape. Seven crunched into his chips, adding another series of numbers down the page with his other hand, apparently oblivious to the wreckage he had created. So far, that was the only consistancy Gyuri could find in his personalty.

“You, um, you can look at my notes,” Gyuri offered before Yoosung’s eyes expanded any further or he burst into tears. “I think I got the most important things.”

“Really?” Yoosung’s eyes lit up with suspicious speed. Clasping his hands together before Gyuri, Yoosung gushed gratefully, “I know it’s a big favor, but thank you! I promise I’ll get them back fast!”

“It’s ok, really,” Gyuri assured. It might be good to have someone to know in the class herself, in case she missed a lecture or, say, needed to borrow a textbook again. Stealing a look at her phone, Gyuri added, “But can we do it tomorrow? I have work, and I don’t want to miss my bus.”

“I have to leave too,” Seven studied a buzzing phone. “Jeez, I was only gone for a few hours. Yoosung, if you want a ride we need to go.”

“Ok! Gyuri, can meet here tomorrow? Noon?” Yoosung hurried to gather his tray while Seven crumpled up his garbage. 

It was settled then; Gyuri had made a studying ally on her first day. She could have done worse.  Returning to the table for a quick farewell after clearing away her own tray, Gyuri thought she was hallucinating at the sight of Seven's textbook waiting in her seat. Seven was shooing Yoosung toward the door, absorbed in his phone as he grabbed his notebook and turned to leave.

“Seven!” Gyuri realized she still didn’t know if that was anything close to his actual name. “You forgot your book. Again.”

“Nah, I didn’t,” Seven shrugged, turning his back to leave. “I’m not even in that class. Have fun with Yoosung!”

“Wait, I can’t just—“

With a final wave over his shoulder, Seven disappeared into the milling crowds of students, taking Yoosung with him by an arm slung around Yoosung’s shoulder. Gyuri waited for him to turn back and reclaim the book. Maybe he had misheard her. Maybe it was another joke. Gyuri waited until Seven's bright red hair disappeared through the exit door. Left with the abandoned book, Gyuri was at a loss. If Seven was still making fun of her, she did not understand the joke. And if he wasn’t…she still didn’t understand. 

In any case, she couldn't _leave_ the book here. Placing it in her bag with the goal to return it as soon as humanly possible, Gyuri ran for her bus. Today had not gone as planned, and somehow, her classmates were kindly making it more confusing.


	2. Chapter 2

“She was pretty cute!” Yoosung proclaimed the obvious from the passenger’s seat.

Well, that had gone even better than Seven had expected. It had almost been too easy.

Seven had gone to campus with pure intentions. Pure intentions for him, admittedly, but with every intention of picking up Yoosung's textbook so that Yoosung didn't miss a "once in a lifetime" raid. But then Yoosung had been late. Seven's original plan had been to hide the textbook behind a shelf in the library and leave Yoosung a scavenger hunt of cryptic clues until he found it. Seven was still fine-tuning that plan for a later date, if the chance arose. But he had spared a look into the classroom, in case he needed an excuse when Yoosung caught on.

And there, Seven had found something better. A girl, now known to be one Gyuri Kang. She was at the back of the classroom, but her flurry of movement had drawn Seven’s eye past the other students. There she was, her bag upended over the desk and a sickly expression on her face, sorting through the debris until there was nothing but a void in front of her. Then came the factoring as she drew out her wallet to count the contents with a mix of desperation and broken acceptance. Seven didn’t need to be a genius—although, he was—to recognize that ritual. 

He’d sat at the back of classrooms, tucking himself away from the larger, louder, and older American students that barely seemed to notice the slight Korean teen in their midst. He’d “lost” a textbook, several textbooks in fact, and faked the remorseful search while Vanderwood stood over him and hammered the cost over his head with threats of leaner lunches. The threats had never fallen, but Seven knew the sinking feeling they created. So a new plan tickled his interest.

Bluntly, Gyuri provided an excuse on two fronts. Seven had been working since the night before, and was looking for a distraction. A linguistics course wasn’t his first choice, but it wasn’t _worse_ than another two hours of coding. And if Yoosung wasn’t going to use the textbook appropriately, Seven could earn good faith by lending it to a soul in need.

Secondly, Yoosung needed incentive, and Seven didn’t have the energy or interest to chase him into the classroom every day. But a pretty girl for a study partner, serendipitously introduced to him after he fumbled the first day? That might inspire Yoosung to attend at least another two classes. If a friendship formed from the introduction, Seven's kind deed only stretched further. There were no downsides. 

“Yeah, she seemed nice,” Seven confirmed noncommittally.“If you had been on time… _you_ could have shared her textbook.”

“I was counting on you to bring mine! You offered,” Yoosung protested, just petulant enough for Seven to know the bait had worked.

“I didn’t know which one was the right one,” Seven evaded, revving his baby’s engine’s proudly. “Do you know how many textbooks there at the bookstore? In Linguistics alone? With blue covers and similar authors? But if I hadn’t shown up, you would have blamed me and thought I’d stolen it or something. You can be so unfair.”

“Why were you on campus in the first place?” Yoosung grumbled, descending into one of his sulks. “You didn’t hack into the student database again, did you?!”

“Nope!” Seven took a corner fast to throw Yoosung sideways. “Jumin wanted to meet about a new social media campaign, and I happened to be in the area. Plus, V was thinking we could look into inviting some of the administrators to the next RFA fundraiser, so I decided to swing by and look into the setup myself.”

Another white lie with some omission for good measure. Jumin wanted to meet, and V had asked Seven to investigate the university for promising organizations, but there was no need for Seven to go to the campus in-person. Arguably that was less convenient than unfurling everything about the university from the safety of his apartment. It didn't matter at the moment. Yoosung was just looking for an easy answer.

Sure enough, the mention of V triggered a scoff from Yoosung and an end to his interrogation. 

“So we _are_ holding another party? Finally,” Yoosung grumbled. Seven nodded in time with the radio, ignoring the cold anger darkening Yoosung’s eyes. “When was V planning on telling the rest of us.”

“Soon,” Seven tapped the steering wheel. “He’s worried about getting the guest list organized, he didn’t want to pressure the rest of us.”

“But he talked to you.”

“I’m his slave, he always pressures me,” Seven dismissed grandly. “It’s my lot in life, slaving away where others don’t see, protecting citizens from the darkness, sacrificing my youth-“

“We’re all members of the RFA,” Yoosung protested, ignoring Seven’s speech. “We all planned the parties together. Why does V get to decide everything?”

“He’s the leader.”

“Rika was the leader. Without Rika…”

Yoosung’s indignation petered away to morose silence. Seven didn’t have a joke or act that would easily mend the rift between V and Yoosung, so he didn't try. Deep down, Seven knew that Yoosung’s bitterness had a grain of truth; without Rika at the helm, the life had gone out of the RFA. V hadn’t returned home for months, Yoosung hadn’t seen V in person for almost two years, Jumin was nearing a year, and Seven was lucky if he saw V every two months for a brief meeting. V kept the worst secrets to himself and only shared glimpses with Seven or Jumin. Yoosung was specially spared the worry about Rika’s stalled legacy and how they should move forward. V saw it as a mercy, and as much as Seven agreed with V, he couldn't fault Yoosung for feeling abandoned. Even knowing what little he did, Seven fought down frustration at V in his worst moments.

“You’re not going to wear your normal shirt tomorrow, are you?” Seven asked.

“Hmmm?” Yoosung muttered.

“You want to make a good impression on Gyuri, don’t you?” Seven took his eyes off the road to ensure Yoosung was listening. “This is your shot!”

That was a generous take on Yoosung’s chances, but it sounded impressive and wasn’t strictly a lie. Gyuri seemed nice enough and seemed to like Yoosung more than she liked Seven. Yoosung was nice, if gullible, and thought she was cute. Meeting a girl at all was progress for Yoosung. It could go somewhere.

“We’re just exchanging notes,” Yoosung squirmed. 

“Hey, you have to start somewhere,” Seven advised. “You said she was cute.”

“Maybe…” Yoosung was trying to sound unsure, but Seven knew quiet hope when he saw it. “But we just met.”

“That’s why you’re making a good _impression._ It gets the ball rolling,” Seven replied, swerving into a parking space in front of Yoosung’s apartment. “You need a study buddy, and if you impress her there, who knows? If it doesn’t work on her, maybe she has a friend looking for love and’ll think of you. It can’t hurt to make an effort.”

Yoosung looked down at his bright shirt defensively. The wistful colors worked for Yoosung, but evidence suggested it didn’t work on the ladies. It was a shame; Yoosung would be a very obedient boyfriend for the first person to snap him up. Prying Yoosung away from his games to _meet_ women was the primary issue.

“You’re right,” Seven decided before Yoosung’s ears started to smoke. “If you change your type, it might weird her out. It’s just studying. I gotta go. Out.”

Yoosung brushed his shirt and bashfulness off to clamber out of the car. At the very least he was thinking about going to campus tomorrow and hadn’t raised a complaint about an impending raid or LOLOL guild meeting. Seven foresaw that lasting until Yoosung was back in his room.

“Oh,” Seven called, tapping his glasses thoughtfully. “Gyuri might try to give her textbook back to you. Maybe. Probably.”

“Why?” Yoosung lifted his bag out of the car from the curb.

“Because I gave it to her,” Seven put his car in first gear.

“You…wait, you can’t just give a girl something like that!” Yoosung went pale. “What do I do if she tries to give it back?!”

“You _could_ take it back…” Seven considered slowly. “But it’s not really _yours._ It might make her feel bad.”

“I don’t want to make her feel bad!!” Yoosung smacked Seven’s car door.

“Hey!!” Seven shouted. Yoosung jumped at Seven’s sudden scolding. Good, Seven had just washed and waxed his darling, it didn't deserve to get smacked because Yoosung was embarrassed. Seven readied his foot on the gas pedal and slowly turned the wheel. “Then don’t take it back. You can say it was my fault.”

“It **_is_** your fault! It is totally your fault!!! What if she thinks I…she might think…she might think…you can’t give people things like that!” Yoosung insisted. Yoosung spluttered in shock, his jaw dropping. “Wait, you _bought the_ -“

“It’ll give you something to talk about!!!” Seven left Yoosung standing on the curb with a majestic roar from the car.

Yup, Seven chuckled to himself on the drive home. That had been worth the price of a textbook. In light of the suspicious looks Gyuri had given him across the table, Seven had just given her and Yoosung something extra to bond over, too. Yoosung would be alright. People wanted to believe Yoosung was sweet and good. It would be easy to blame Seven and grovel for forgiveness, with Yoosung’s puppy dog eyes. As for what Gyuri thought…she probably thought Seven was weird, at the very least, and Seven wouldn’t contradict her. He had no plans to get more involved, so it wasn't worth more thought. 

Standing in front of his apartment, Seven could actually feel Vanderwood’s rage seeping under the door. Seven rattled off the word for “cane” in Arabic and placed his headphones over his ears. Vanderwood flew out of Seven’s kitchen, their mouth moving at an impressive speed. Fun was over.

“Where have you _been_?!” Vanderwood demanded. Throwing up their hands in Seven’s face, Vanderwood repeated slowly, “What have you been **_doing_**?”

Sliding his headphones off, Seven knit his brows in pantomimed concern.

“Sorry, what?”

“You are not sorry,” Vanderwood contradicted. Stooping to pick up Seven’s shoes and place them by the door, Vanderwood grumbled impressively, “You said you’d be gone for an hour, at most. You were gone for almost five. If you miss your deadline by _a minute_ , we have serious problems.”

“It was for a good cause,” Seven insisted. Twirling his chair around to face the nearest computer, Seven let Vanderwood’s scowl roll off his back. “I was helping citizens in the name of justice. It inspires me.”

“We don’t serve citizens,” Vanderwood shoved Seven’s chair into the desk. “We serve powerful companies that pay us a lot of money for our work.”

“Charity is a virtue. I strive to be virtuous to people in need.”

“You’re a devil, you don't have virtues,” Vanderwood contradicted. “If you want to be useful to someone in need, do the job I _need_ you to do.”

“I’ll finish it on time,” Seven stopped fighting when he saw Vanderwood reach for a pocket. “Don’t I always finish in time?”

“No.”

Seven replaced his headphones and cranked up the music to drown out Vanderwood's specifics. They both knew that Seven always met the ultimate deadline. Rebelling against Vanderwood’s orders and constant nagging was simply a ritual to give them something to talk about over repetitive jobs.

Over the next several hours, Seven lost himself in the lines of code across his screen. It was a mindless security job, combing through a prestigious business’ system to find weak points. If Seven broke a sweat, he could dismantle the entire system and crash at least one bank. But Seven did his job to the letter. He hated his job. But he was good at his job, and the only option was to do it right.

And he had done something good today. It mattered less that Vanderwood was still grousing, or that Yoosung was bitter, or that Yoosung’s classmate 'Gyuri' might find him annoying. One didn’t do charity in the hope of getting thanks. Seven certainly didn’t expect gratitude for the pittance of good he left in the world. He had no hope of balancing the scales. If Yoosung kept his study plans and made a friend that kept his interest in college, that would be a reward Seven wasn’t counting on.

“Don’t you want to do something else?” Seven tipped back in his seat when Vanderwood walked by with a pile of laundry. 

“Of course I do. But you won’t let me,” Vanderwood said without real bite. “And I can’t sit in this pigsty.”

“It’s not that bad,” Seven shook an empty soda can by his keyboard.

“How have you survived this long?” Vanderwood snatched the can away. 

“Luck?” Seven offered carelessly. That covered all varieties of luck Seven had experienced.

“Well, some of us can’t rely on luck.”

“I don’t make you rely on that. My luck is my own,” Seven held up his hand solemnly. “I always devote all of my _skill_ to our work.”

Vanderwood snorted doubtfully, then left him in peace. Seven would have devoted all of his skills to their work if he thought it was necessary. Instead, Seven devoted a fraction of his skills to his work through a dinner of Honey Buddha Chips and Ph D. Pepper. When he was sure Vanderwood was distracted, he switched to something more interesting: Mint Eye.

The “thing” known as Mint Eye had first caught his eye more than six months ago. A forum user with an ornate green eye in place of a picture had called for True Believers, and Seven had clicked on the thread out of boredom and procrastination. The actual post had been little more than a poem promising paradise at the hands of an angel, and Seven had quickly dismissed it. Plenty of people butchered scripture to look impressive online.

The term “Mint Eye” hadn't appeared until several weeks later, the second time Seven had run into the poem, on Tripter. The user had little else to their name, but the same ornate eye stared out from the screen. More strangely, a reluctantly intrigued search for the poem had led Seven nowhere. The only place the poem could be found was on Tripter, only to disappear a few days later without a trace. This “Mint Eye” had left nothing behind. 

Idle curiosity turned to active intrigue and petty suspicion. Things didn’t disappear in Seven’s digital kingdom, and they certainly didn’t vanish without leaving clues that he could find. It was a personal insult to Seven's pride. Seven ran into the poem periodically, only for the account to lead down a winding trail that ran cold under Seven’s fingers. It appeared at random: gaming forums, entertainment discussion boards, Metube comment threads, social media accounts, with no clear point of origin, only to disappear when Seven looked again. It circulated like a call, fading away before Seven could pinpoint where it came from. 

And it was taking people with it. Not enough to notice if no one was looking. An account going quiet here, a regular poster falling silent there, always after the appearance and disappearance of the poem in their network. The first five were a coincidence. The first ten were an anomaly. Approaching 100, Seven didn’t believe in coincidence or fate that much. The most solid lead was a crime report cataloging the belongings of a university student that had been missing for two weeks: everything where it should be, nothing out of the ordinary until a notebook with mentions of escaping this filthy world for paradise with the help of an angel. The working theory had been suicide; then that evidence vanished too.

Checking out the administrators and a favor for Yoosung had been a convenient excuse for Seven's actual investigation on campus. This student hadn’t just gone quiet; he had physically evaporated, taking his student records, Tripter account, and email account with him. He joined the growing number of people yanked from even Seven’s reach. It was the first student from the university to be declared “missing,” but he was far from the first student who _had_ gone missing if the investigators had bothered to pay attention. It was hardly surprising: Seven knew all too well that the promise of salvation and acceptance drew young people in.

“Are you just staring at your screen?” Vanderwood’s reprimand sliced into Seven’s ear.

“I’m strategizing,” Seven mumbled, tapping keys at random. “Coding takes planning.”

“You had time to plan. You had _five hours_. Get doing.”

To Vanderwood’s advantage, there were no new mentions of Mint Eye for Seven to investigate. The phenomenon irked him, more than anything. A strange puzzle had presented itself to him, and he was left waiting for pieces to fall. Worse, he could be sure something would fall, reappearing just before he lost interest. That irked him most of all. 

Fate saw fit to compensate him. Vanderwood was asleep on the couch they had fussily cleared off when V called. After almost a week of silence, V finally had time to check in. Seven cut the ringtone off, ducking into the hallway and answering quickly, “V?”

“Hello, Seven,” V answered calmly. As he usually did. “I’m sorry to call suddenly.”

“That’s what phones are for,” Seven was just relieved to hear from V. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” V was probably lying, but Seven allowed it. “Really, I don’t need you to worry. Is everything there…?”

“I went to the university,” Seven kept that part simple. “There’s the administration, and plenty of student organizations that might draw people to a fundraiser. Yoosung…”

Seven took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes at the guilty silence on the other end of the phone. Someday, Yoosung would see the pain V carried and understand. They all felt Rika’s absence, but no one carried it with them in the same way V did. Damn secrets made everything more complicated.

“Is Yoosung alright?” V asked urgently. 

“Yeah, yeah, he’s ok. I mentioned the possibility of another party. He seems to like the idea,” Seven pinched his nose against a growing headache. 

“Really?” Seven thumped his head against the wall for trying to lie to V.

“Yeah. He just…are we going to tell Jumin?”

V’s sigh hit Seven full force. Avoiding Jumin was different than sparing Yoosung. If _Jumin_ caught Seven withholding information or lying for V, it would be more than an immature pout to deal with, and Seven highly doubted the prospect of a girlfriend would mollify Jumin in the slightest. If anything, it would overload his circuits and trigger a vicious attack protocol.

“If we’re really going to start preparing, Jumin has business contacts,” Seven reasoned. “I _can_ handle them. I can do it as Jumin, if it makes it easier. But Jumin and Yoosung are going to find out eventually.”

“Of course,” V conceded. 

Something rustled over the speaker, followed by a thump and what sounded like a voice in the background. V felt even more distant than he usually did. Seven had hoped that it was his overstimulated paranoia getting the better of him, but there was no question that the group was becoming more fractured in the last few months, and V keeping himself far away had contributed to it. Seven leaned against the wall, caught between the swell of pride that V trusted him and weariness that V was trusting him this much. Seven hadn't been designed to rally a group or carry on Rika's public work. Jumin was undoubtedly in a better social position, and Yoosung could utilize connections on campus without arousing suspicion. Seven preferred to work behind the scenes.

“Of course, Jumin and Yoosung should be included,” V continued levelly. “But I will tell them myself, soon. Nothing is certain yet, I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“Ok. Makes sense,” Seven tugged at his headphones. “You should talk to Yoosung. Helping to plan another party might help him….I dunno, it might help him cheer up.”

Seven regretted saying it instantly. V’s silence was enough of a reply. Cheer was a scarce commodity amongst the RFA members these days. V chuckled mirthlessly after a clear pause of pain, stabbing Seven’s conscience and twisting.

“I’ll be sure to talk to them,” V promised, somehow perfectly smooth when he talked. 

“Anything else I can do?”

“No, thank you,” V replied kindly. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything definite for you. Please, focus on your work. Don’t give Vanderwood a hard time.”

“They give me a hard time.”

“Try to reach a truce,” V encouraged.

“Fine,” Seven wouldn't fight V. 

V’s laugh sounded a second time. It always sounded slightly forced, but Seven doubted a stranger would be able to hear the difference. Seven hadn’t heard V’s real laugh in almost three years. Bouncing his head off the wall a second time, Seven wondered if his own laugh ever sounded so hollow.

“Let me worry about the party for now,” V instructed. “I’ll call you when I have more news.”

“Whenever. I'm here to help,” Seven reminded. “Jumin and Yoosung too. We’re all part of the RFA.”

“I know,” V assured. “Be safe.”

Seven returned the sentiment, but V had hung up halfway through. Seven tossed his phone from hand to hand to fidget away his discomfort. V suggesting the party in the first place had been a surprise. Seven didn't like the feeling that V was backtracking, taking the chances of another RFA party with him. Without plans and parties, the RFA was nothing but a defunct club. Seven wondered how Jumin would take such platitudes. Not well, probably. Nothing phased Jumin Han in his company tower, unless someone knew to look at his black eyes. Seven didn’t envy anyone on the receiving end of the steely stare.

Seven snuck back into the apartment without Vanderwood stirring. That would almost certainly use up the last of Seven's good karma for the foreseeable future. Cracking open a fresh can of soda and a full bag of chips to keep himself fueled, Seven returned to his lovingly cluttered desk. The notebook from his brief reprieve that afternoon still sat crookedly with the ring from his last soda staining the cover. Propping the notebook against the edge of the desk, Seven considered the binary he had challenged himself to scribble. Yoosung was right, it was useless. It was short hand at best, and gibberish to most. 

Oh well, Seven tossed the notebook into his desk drawer. It had been fun while it lasted, Seven pictured Gyrui trying to subtly sneak peeks at his notes over the textbook between them. And Seven had done one good thing today.


	3. Chapter 3

“Have a good evening. We hope to see you again!”

The last customers left behind two mugs and a single plate. Gyrui locked the door behind them and flipped the lovingly handwritten sign to Closed. On the other side of the glass pane, people strolled in the sunset, passing the small cafe without a second glance.

Gyuri stacked the plate and mugs with one hand while taking a moment to rest her back and feet by leaning on the table. Discouragement added to the ache. No more than ten customers had been in the cafe since she returned from class. The busiest time was in the morning, when a fleeting crush snatched black coffee or single pastries on their way to work. It was a windfall that wasn’t enough. Jaehee’s meticulous creations stared out from behind the glass display case, the delicate designs made from icing and carefully placed sprinkles all melting away without customers to satisfy.

“Those were the last ones?”

Gyuri straightened up with the dishes at Jaehee’s appearance behind the counter. A look of disappointment was poorly hidden on her cousin’s face, even when Jaehee’s hair fell forward as she wiped off the countertop. Jaehee tucked her bangs back while her eyes rose to look to the door with a suppressed hope that made Gyuri’s stomach hurt.

“They really liked the shortbread,” Gyuri offered for encouragement. “And the girl took at least three pictures of the design you did for her coffee.”

“The shortbread sells well,” Jaehee nodded. Her growing bangs fell into her eyes a second time only to be swept back sharply. “Am I making the slices too big? People seem to like sharing it without ordering their own.”

The question wasn’t directed at Gyuri. Jaehee took a small notepad out of her apron pocket and made note of her observation. Today’s notepad was green; yesterday’s had been baby blue. Two days before, it had been red. Jaehee never used such notepads when taking an order, her memory was too good.

Maybe Jaehee had a photographic memory, the thought came out of nowhere and sped away just as fast. Gyuri dunked the dishes into the sink and scrubbed vigorously. She categorically refused to think about that man anymore. It wasn’t the worth the effort. She didn’t even care why he had sat in a course he wasn’t in for two hours, or why he thought a number was an acceptable name. She was going to politely return the offending book to Yoosung tomorrow with the appropriate outpourings of thanks, and that would be that.

Taking a broom with her back into the dining area, Gyuri distracted herself with moving the tables and stacking the chairs through throbbing knees and shoulders. Running around campus with a weighty bag _and_ working as a waitress was a different routine that her body wasn’t going to take quietly. Jaehee started to clear the display case without comment. The colorful cupcakes would make for a good treat later, Gyuri’s mouth watered selfishly over the leftovers. Strategically the leftovers were a hit against profit. Jaehee kept planning to scale back production, but there would be a swell or contrarily a dip in customers, a note would be jotted down to adjust to demand or make the bakery more colorful, and the pastries would multiply.

“People like the green tea roll, too,” Gyuri mentioned to fill the empty cafe beside the rustle of the broom. “I had one table order three slices.”

“It’s not as sweet,” Jaehee nodded, running a damp rag over the tables. “Older customers order it. I’ll allocate money to get more ingredients, and cut…I’ll cut something for now.”

Out came the notepad for Jaehee to stew over. That hadn’t been what Gyuri had in mind.

In all honesty, Jaehee’s obsessive organization didn’t surprise Gyuri. Gyuri was still trying to reconcile the sight of Jaehee doting over baked goods against the Jaehee she had lived with throughout high school and college. That Jaehee had been buried in studies and striving for a business degree on a scholarship. That Jaehee had been kind and creative, but faultlessly academic and pragmatic. At her most carefree Jaehee would go shopping with Gyuri for clothes twice a year in an extravagant escape. Baking would have been a shockingly frivolous hobby. Gyuri’s mother had fainted—or faked it, as was her favorite trick—when Jaehee had quit her job at a banking firm and started making plans for a bakery last year.

With experience behind her, Gyuri understood it had all been a role Jaehee had adopted until she escaped the family clutches. That was no small feat: Gyuri’s mother was not interested in contingency plans or anything approaching uncertain endeavors, and Gyuri’s father had barely convinced her that anyone else should get a say. Personal dreams would never please Gyuri’s mother as much as speedy results. Gyuri wished she had had this level mental clarity before Jaehee had moved out.

“Are you alright?” Jaehee asked. Jaehee was studying Gyuri with a look that was equal parts sympathetic and probing. “I’m sure today was long, thank you for working so hard.”

“I like working here,” Gyuri did. “It always smells good and it gives me an excuse to eat cake.”

“Those are the best perks,” Jaehee admitted. Dimples appeared on Jaehee’s cheeks while she scrubbed down the tables. “Do you have a favorite yet?”

“Do I have to decide?”

“Yes. It’s market research. University students are some of our best customers. This is important.”

Proving that her analytical side was still strong, Jaehee was absolutely serious. If Gyuri didn’t answer now, Jaehee would redouble her efforts the next time she asked until Gyuri coughed up the data she wanted. Stalling for time by sweeping in the far corner, Gyuri considered the buffet Jaehee had presented to her.

“And your favorite drink,” Jaehee demanded, whipping the pencil out from behind her ear.

Crap, Gyuri couldn’t remember all of the drinks Jaehee had tested on her. Most of them were good, and a less sensitive topic than Jaehee’s beloved baked creations, so Gyuri would focus on that once she settled on the food. 

“Ok, ok. Let me pick a few. For _new_ items,” Gyuri swept the broom between herself and Jaehee for cover. “For _newer_ items, I like the coffee cake thing. With little faces in caramel or chocolate. People take photos of them a lot, and it's just sweet enough to have with coffee or by itself. The customers like getting personal designs so they order their own.”

“I see,” Jaehee made a note. “Good.”

“And for more traditional stuff,” Gyuri thought carefully. “Uh…I like the green tea cake, _but_ , the twisted donuts are good for students who can’t sit down.”

“Drink.”

“Hazelnut mocha,” Gyuri reported promptly. 

Gyuri shouted and readied the broom while Jaehee assumed a fighting stance at a heavy crash from outside. A shadowy figure pressed against the pane so close the cloth of their coat squeaked against the glass. The figure managed a pathetic second knock before a flash of silver hair under his cap saved Gyuri from a heart attack.

“Please, beautiful goddesses,” the man crooned. “Is it too late for me?” 

No, despite all good sense and the sign on the door, it was not. Jaehee was making a beeline for the kitchen, just short of leaving a smoke trail in her wake. Propping the broom in the corner to make up for brandishing it, Gyuri caught herself straightening her shirt before she unlocked the door.

The man in the doorway topped Gyuri by more than half a foot and appeared surrounded by a halo of light from the street lamp behind him. Greek gods had a less stunning visage. Gazing down at Gyuri with red eyes that somehow still managed to be kindly, the young man murmured, “Hello, princess. Spare a crust of stale bread?”

He ended his greeting with a wink he didn’t put effort into. Two weeks ago, Gyuri would have melted into a swooning puddle after receiving such charm full blast. In the present she limited herself to a heady flutter in her chest that she would emphatically deny if anyone ever asked. 

“Hi Zen,” Gyuri sounded unimpressed to herself. Zen looked suspiciously pleased with himself anyway. Zen always looked pleased with himself or had just gotten done looking pleased with himself, but was infuriatingly amiable about it.

Zen pulled off his cap to let fine silver hair cascade in perfect waves around his face and a long tail down his back. The dark leather jacket found itself over the back of a chair to reveal a tight black shirt that outlined every muscle underneath. Not that Gyuri knew anything about the muscles underneath. Except for that one promotional photo Jaehee had. It was a very high quality photo.

“I’m sorry to be so late,” Zen grabbed the broom on his way by to waltz with it in the low light. “Rehearsal took an extra two hours today.”

“Not because of you?” Gyuri reached for the broom. 

“Oh, no, not because of me,” Zen glided out of reach. “The director really seemed to like my performance.”

Zen dipped the broom until it nearly touched the floor while extending his leg behind him in a graceful line. It didn’t take any effort either as Zen looked up through his bangs to make sure Gyuri was watching. Fine, Gyuri’s knees thought about becoming weak. For a second. She was only mortal.

Zen’s leg stayed perfectly aligned until he tipped himself upright and resumed his improvised dance throughout the room. Gyuri followed lazily. She attempted to take the broom from Zen every time he did this, she had never succeeded, and in one case Zen had held the broom above his head and watched her impotent hops with the most indulgent expression Gyuri had ever seen. It was easier to follow Zen and recapture the broom when he got distracted.

“Zen, it’s so good to see you. What would you like?”

Jaehee stood ready with a tray, a fresh white clip keeping her hair straight, and the hint of a blush. Zen spun dramatically, leaning casually against the broom handle to consider Jaehee with a grin. Raking his hair back to study the ceiling deep in thought, Zen sighed, “Ah, I’ve been craving one of your treats all day…but which one…”

“Tiramisu?” Gyuri asked.

“No…”

“Shortbread?”

“No…”

“Doughnut?”

“Oh, I couldn’t with rehearsals,” Zen stretched his back to emphasize his lean frame.

“Chocolate chip cookie?”

“I shouldn’t, my skin,” Zen stroked his chin to showcase his perfect complexion. 

“Scone?” Gyuri asked through her teeth.

“Isn’t that a breakfast food?”

“Bungeoppang and a chai tea latte?” Jaehee suggested.

“Yes!” Zen clapped his hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Zen smiled thankfully at Jaehee and Jaehee smiled to herself as she went to comply. Reclaiming the broom from under Zen’s arm while he watched Jaehee go, Gyuri resumed sweeping up the dust Zen had charitably scattered with his dance. 

“Oh,” Zen hopped away from Gyuri sweeping around his feet. “You started school today!”

“Uh huh,” Gyuri mumbled.

“Ooooh. Not good?” 

“No, it was fine.”

Settling himself on one of the tables and folding his legs up from the floor, Zen propped an elbow against his knee and his chin on his hand. It had been unnerving the first time Zen had so attentively looked at Gyuri, somehow interested in what a common student had to say while he graced the covers of magazines. It had taken getting used to while Zen amicably asked about her day every time he visited.

“School can be hard,” Zen comforted. “Trying to balance school with work must be even harder.”

“It’s not so bad.” 

“I hope not. I couldn’t do it,” Zen ran his ponytail through his fingers thoughtfully. “Do you like your classes?”

“They’re ok,” Gyuri didn't want to talk about her classes. "Just classes, nothing exciting."

Zen chuckled too knowingly. Dropping from his perch, Zen casually took the broom away and took up sweeping with diligence. Gyuri sank into the nearest seat, guiltily keeping an eye out for Jaehee’s return.

“School was tough for me, too,” Zen admitted offhandedly. “Everyone talking and staring was so uncomfortable.”

“I bet you were popular,” Gyuri countered. “Teenage Casanova?”

“Not really. I always had good looks, of course,” Zen preened. “But I was too busy to make many friends or date.”

“Really?” Gyuri leaned over the back of her chair skeptically.

“Yup. I was expected to study hard and spend most of my time at home. My beauty didn't get me a social life,” Zen explained. “Until I got into acting, that is.”

Zen dramatically bowed and blew kisses to an imaginary audience. Gyuri obligingly applauded Zen for his performance. It was a kind story. Gyuri couldn’t imagine Zen as anything but a social butterfly with an endless supply of stories. Zen turned on his heel to give Gyuri a low bow. 

“I’m sure everyone was just nervous and suffering being back in classes today,” Zen promised.“Things'll get better in a week or two, and then I'll be lucky to see you between parties and dates!”

It was unfair, Gyuri rolled her eyes in the face of Zen's unofficial prophecy. Zen wasn’t only their best looking customer; Zen was probably one of the nicest customers. He usually came late to avoid fans mobbing him, but he always made sure to help straighten up the cafe and keep Gyuri and Jaehee company. 

“How was the rehearsal?” Gyuri asked. “Did they change your choreography again?”

“Yes,” Zen sighed in mighty martyrdom. “It’s not that I mind learning new steps, but when they change it the morning of rehearsal, it can get so discouraging.”

“And Echo Girl?” Gyuri leaned forward for the latest gossip.

“Lovely,” Zen’s frustration permeated the entire word. “She’s very…commanding.”

“Demanding?” 

“She’s used to having things done a certain way,” Zen sighed. Setting the broom aside and coming to join Gyuri, Zen finished with a smile, “It’s an amazing opportunity, I’m lucky to be performing with her.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Jaehee insisted. Setting Zen’s order in front of him, Jaehee stood attentively beside the table as she added, “You’re an excellent performer, they’re lucky you took the role.”

“This looks great,” Zen rubbed his hands together. “You should have something!”

“Oh, I shouldn’t…”

“Don’t make me eat alone,” Zen looked up at Jaehee pleadingly. “It’s past dinner! Gyuri, what do you want?”

“I need to study,” Gyuri pretended to consider until Zen stuck out his lip pathetically. “But you two can-“

“There’s some vanilla cupcakes that will be stale by tomorrow,” Jaehee hurried away. “We can celebrate your first day of classes!”

Zen bounced his eyebrows triumphantly at Gyuri behind Jaehee’s back before innocently sipping his chai latte just in time for Jaehee to rush back with two cupcakes. Springing up before Jaehee could move away, Zen pulled the chair with his jacket over it to the table and gestured for Jaehee to sit. 

Gyuri busied herself in her cupcake while Jaehee stiffly took a seat and let Zen push her chair in. Jaehee snatched her cupcake and peeled the wrapper off with fixated concentration. Lounging back in his seat, Zen took a bite of the bungeoppang and groaned in satisfaction. Jaehee must have made the playful treat fresh. Bungeoppang had been one of the first things Jaehee had slashed from the usual menu to make room for fancier goods, but the fish shaped waffle iron was kept clean and prepared in the kitchen.

“How many weeks until the show opens?” Jaehee hid her clear interest in a quick bite of her cupcake.

“Two weeks!” Zen glowed with anticipation. “I can reserve tickets for you?”

“We couldn’t ask you to do that,” Jaehee’s neck started to turn pink.

“It’s no problem!” Zen shook his head vigorously. “I can’t get them for _free_ , but the director wants to make sure the seats are full for the first nights, the price should be good.”

“You should give them to your family,” Jaehee demurred.

“My family won’t be able to make it,” Zen’s voice dropped. “You’ve been so nice, letting me come in late like this. I’d be really happy if you two could see me perform live. It’ll help me do my best!”

Zen begged to Jaehee directly, with all the passion of a prince, and for a moment Gyuri thought her cousin was going to combust. Jaehee stuffed almost half of her cupcake in her mouth at once, chewing slowly through a smile at Zen while Zen leaned forward for her answer.

“I’d like to go,” Gyuri offered.

“Great! I’ll let you know when you can pick the tickets up!” Zen decided.

Jaehee swallowed her mouthful in a mighty gulp that might have been an excuse for how red her cheeks were.

“I’m sure it will be an amazing show,” Jaehee predicted adoringly. “I saw clips of you in ‘Tei’s Tea Leaf,’ and you were better than most of the older cast members.”

“That was an amazing opportunity,” Zen agreed. “It got me a lot of offers. I’m glad you saw it.”

“Not all of it, I saw clips on MeTube,” Jaehee admitted, sliding back from the edge of her seat. “I’m sure your singing will be better live.”

Gyuri nibbled through her cupcake throughout Jaehee and Zen eagerly comparing notes on Zen’s performance. If this went on for much longer, Gyuri really would have to leave to study. Still, it was the first time that day that Jaehee sounded happy. Zen was working his customary charm, making Jaehee’s posture relax while her face lit up the longer she and Zen talked. By the time Zen’s mug was low and the bungeoppang was demolished, Jaehee had lost all of her nervous tension.

“I’m sure your dancing will be the highlight of the show,” Jaehee assured after hearing Zen’s choreography woes. “And if they trust you to learn the choreography so fast, they must have real faith in your talent.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of it that way,” Zen drained the dregs of his mug and stretched contentedly. “Those cupcakes looked amazing. Can I get one to go?”

“Sure,” Gyuri cut in before Jaehee could protest. “What kind?”

“Chocolate something,” Zen laughed guiltily. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“Of course not!” Jaehee promised.

“Then it’s our little secret,” Zen murmured to Jaehee.

Gyuri hurried away before she had to see Jaehee blush again. Zen was rising as a national heartthrob through commercials, movies, and his new leading role in a musical. Women fawning over him couldn’t be unusual, and Jaehee had followed Zen’s career since the beginning. Gyuri suspected Jaehee’s interest was rapidly becoming sincere with Zen charming her in person. Gyuri didn’t blame Jaehee one bit for that.

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” Jaehee took the box from Gyuri to hand to Zen. “You can’t get injured.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zen pulled on his jacket and tucked his hair back into the dark cap. Taking the box with both hands, Zen assured, “I heal very quickly, but I’ll be careful.”

“Get enough rest,” Jaehee instructed, jerking her hands away from the box.

“I do. And I eat right,” Zen looked down at the box. “Make sure you don’t work too much, either. I don’t know what I’ll do if you get sick and I can’t get treats here.”

Taking out his wallet, Zen counted out his bill and handing it to Gyuri. Gyuri ignored the fact that Zen had paid for the two cupcakes she and Jaehee had eaten. That was a tradition alongside the pilfered broom.

“Good luck at school,” Zen saluted Gyuri and gave Jaehee a wink. “I’ll make sure you get good seats for the first show.”

Jaehee shut the door slowly behind Zen and lingered to lock it until Zen disappeared down the street past the streetlights. Jaehee patted the door affectionately before once again busying herself with cleaning up for the night. It was always uplifting when Zen came in and showered them with appreciation. Gyuri left Jaehee straightening tables, humming to herself. 

Serving herself a hazelnut mocha and retreating up to her room, Gyuri set about her night of studying. Spreading the contents of her bag on the floor, Gyuri started with her political science course, jolting herself to attentiveness with progressively cold sips for caffeine. She enjoyed political science, countries’ histories combining with evolving systems of rules and understandings to keep the intricate system functioning.

Next came her economics course, the tutoring needed to understand the flow of trade policies. Gyuri liked economics when the formulas worked. Her notes were covered in smudges and crossed out failures that made sorting them out a chore in itself. Shaking her hand out from two hours of continuous writing, Gyuri went for a refill.

Jaehee’s light was still on at the end of the hall. Jaehee would get up at four to start baking for the coming day, letting Gyuri sleep until six on weekdays and a generous five on weekends to accommodate the bump in numbers. The clack of keys leaking into the hallway convinced Gyuri to sneak down to the kitchen without knocking. Gyuri knew from her studies that it took years for a small business like this to turn a profit and become stable. Jaehee knew it too. For Jaehee’s sake Gyuri hoped luck or a miracle would give a sign that success was on the horizon.

Hugging her drink for warmth, Gyuri settled in for the last stretch of studying. Her actual notes were a tangled mess of half sentences, bullet points, and personal abbreviations that would take Yoosung at least an hour to decipher. 

Rewriting them couldn’t hurt. Tearing out the first pages and spreading them out for reference, Gyuri wrote with precise characters and neat subheadings to organize the stream of thought from writing as the professor talked. The methodical process was soothing, unfurling neatly while Gyuri reprocessed the lecture.

Brushing at smudges over her notebook, Gyuri reached for the textbook to flip through. Syntax was tedious and complex at the same time, cluttering into a headache as Gyuri stared at the jumbled lines of text in front of her. Gyuri tucked her hair behind her ear as it fell to brush the page, forcing Gyuri to realize how low she had slumped in the last hour.

“Gyuri?”

Gyuri sat upright and angled her pencil to the paper in time for Jaehee to lean into her room. Jaehee’s reading glasses sat at the end of her nose to cast darker shadows under her eyes. She looked ten times as tired as Gyuri felt. 

“How is it going?” Jaehee leaned against door and yawned.

“Ok. Do you need something?”

“Just checking in. Don’t study too late.”

“I’m almost done,” Gyuri closed her notebook and neatly stacked her supplies. Placing the borrowed book on top, Gyuri asked tentatively, “Do you think I can work an extra shift or two this week?”

Jaehee’s mouth turned down before the question was even out of Gyuri’s mouth. Taking off her glasses and tucking them in the collar of her shirt, Jaehee sighed heavily.

“I already have the schedule written,” Jaehee explained. “Eunji took over your shifts to make sure nothing conflicted with your classes. And you’re working all weekend.” Jaehee bit her lip through her calculations. 

“Not that, sorry,” Gyuri rolled her pencil against her fingers. “I didn’t mean officially. I wanted more practice with the recipes, when I can. Some of my classmates thought it was cool I worked in a cafe, I thought I could being a few samples for my study group? Advertising _and_ street cred?”

Gyuri’s lie sank in to make Jaehee slump against the doorframe in relief. The flow of cash was strictly limited and managed to allow two other waitresses work when Gyuri or Jaehee couldn’t, if Jaehee quietly cut her own wages on slow weeks. It had been selfish to ask for extra shifts at all and make a personal problem part of the business. Nodding over Gyuri’s idea, Jaehee smiled wearily.

“That’s a good idea. With more students around we could get a boost,” Jaehee scratched a hand through her hair. “But I’ll worry about the marketing, you need to focus on studying.”

“I don’t mind,” Gyuri picked at the pages of her book, no, Seven’s book.

“Thank you, but you’re here for school. I’m glad you want to work, but we already discussed your schedule,” Jaehee tapped her fingers against the door. Covering her mouth through another yawn, Jaehee smiled weakly as she reassured, “It’s a good idea. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Gyuri nodded. “G’night.”

So much for that. Gyuri crawled into bed with a pounding headache. She would have to think of something else tomorrow. If she didn’t work extra shifts, maybe she could copy what she needed and return the book to Yoosung in a couple of days. Or, if Yoosung needed her notes again, she could spend the time borrowing his text book in exchange. Or, she would get on the bus tomorrow and her actual book would somehow be sitting in the seat waiting for her…

 

* * *

 

 

It felt as if Gyuri’s alarm went off as soon as Gyuri had closed her eyes. Dragging herself out of bed, Gyuri drifted through the morning in a fog perforated by Jaehee’s instructions and requests. After finishing the first batch of shortbread and cupcakes with Jaehee only hovering some of the time, then finishing the doughnuts, then setting out the cakes and scones Jaehee had started before she was even awake, Gyuri rushed to change into clothes not coated in a fine dust of flour so she could meet the first morning rush.

It was a predictable crowd: business men craving coffee or seeking a treat before their day, a handful of students snatching something they could eat on the move, and a sprinkling of older women who lived nearby stopping in for breakfast and the latest gossip. Some of them had started to know Gyuri by name and greeted her with friendly questions about school, but most spared a polite smile before bustling away. The rush trickled down by ten o’clock, giving Gyuri just enough time to start another batch of doughnut dough before heading to campus.

“Wait, wait,” Jaehee ran out of the kitchen with a bag with the cafe’s logo on it filled with take out boxes. “I’ve labeled all of them: four cupcakes in that one, a green tea cake that’s big enough to split, coffee cake in that one, I thought doughnuts would get soggy so I gave you scones instead, and some sugar cookies.”

“Uh…” Gyuri stared down at the barrage of boxes.

“For your study group,” Jaehee explained. “It’s the perfect place to share some snacks without seeming pushy. People open up over food.”

Jaehee patted Gyuri's shoulder encouragingly. Right. Gyuri hadn’t explained in detail that the study “group” was one young man she wasn’t sure was going to show up. Two young men she wasn’t sure were going to show up, if Seven appeared with Yoosung. Or maybe one young man if Seven appeared without Yoosung just to mess with her. Optimistically, Gyuri’s “group” was a haphazard trio at best. 

“And,” Jaehee scrubbed flour off of her cheek, “You can take notes this way without drawing attention to yourself.”

Gyuri took the bag with a nod without knowing how she would deliver what Jaehee expected. Handing the snacks to random passing students was not a dignified way to start her second day. Throwing it out was a terrible waste. Eating enough to compensate would be a challenge. Her fibs were going to make her fat if she wasn’t careful.

Still, Gyuri sheltered the bag throughout her bus ride. The book was nowhere to be seen, as if Gyuri had actually expected that to happen. The extra bag made getting out of the bus and across the streets to campus an extra hassle, until Gyuri realized she was going to be late as the campus bell tolled. Never mind, Gyuri picked up her pace without much hope.

“Gyuri!!!”

Yoosung spotted her instantly from across the cafeteria, standing up to wave widely. Ducking her head as the other students turned to stare at her or glare at Yoosung, Gyuri hurried to the table and set her bags down.

“Sorry, now I’m late,” Gyuri admitted.

“That’s ok! I just got here,” Yoosung had strewn his notebook, pencils, and books across the table. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Gyuri waved Yoosung to sit. “I just…need a minute, sorry.”

“No problem! You’re doing me a favor!”

Yoosung smiled up at her. He looked neater than yesterday. His hair was pinned back neatly and the green jacket he was wearing lacked any bright buttons. Perhaps Zen was right that yesterday had been a fluke impression. Gyuri certainly didn’t want to be judged by her first day. Gyuri set the precious bag on the table before fishing her notebook out. Yoosung started fidgeting across from her and looking between her and the bag as if he wasn’t sure which one was more interesting.

“If you have plans we can do this later,” Yoosung leaned in his seat to look behind the bag curiously.

“Oh, no, that’s just some snacks my cousin gave me,” Gyuri muffled the admission into her bag. “In case we got hungry.”

“Snacks?!”

Yoosung was out of his seat and reaching into the bag before he jerked himself to a stop. The bench thunked from the force of Yoosung sitting down. 

“From your cafe?” Yoosung folded and unfolded his hands on the table. “That’s so cool!”

Gyuri was still convinced Yoosung was at least one year her junior. He was wiggling in his seat like a child waiting to be released to break or allowed to open presents at their birthday party. After a long morning and a cramped bus ride, the enthusiasm was gratifying. 

“Yeah,” Gyuri left her books to the side. Yoosung’s books were abandoned beside him. This was an excellent start for a study session. Before Yoosung squirmed so hard he fell out of his seat, Gyuri offered, “Do you want to try some?”

“Yes!…Please,” Yoosung bounced in his seat once.

First impression or not, Gyuri was quickly learning that it was hard to stay mad at Yoosung’s glee. Yoosung reverently followed the boxes as Gyuri took them out of the bag and sat with his eyes darting between the options. His eyes lit up with pure joy each time Gyuri opened a box to reveal its contents. It was adorable.

“Did you not eat lunch again?” Gyuri realized she sounded dangerously close to teasing.

“I did, but these look awesome! The cupcakes have faces!!” Yoosung’s hand hovered over the box. “Can I have one?”

“Go ahead.”

Yoosung snatched a chocolate cupcake with pink icing. Gyuri had to be impressed when he fit almost half the cupcake in his mouth in one bite. With pink icing under his nose, Yoosung stared at the treat in awe.

“Did you make this?!” Yoosung licked the frosting off.

“I helped make them. Jaehee, my cousin, is in charge of most of the recipes,” Yoosung’s profoundly awed expression took Gyuri off guard. “She does most of the baking, too, I’m an assistant at best.” 

“There’s gooey chocolate filling!!!” Yoosung crowed, stuffing another quarter of the cupcake in his mouth. 

“Jaehee likes little extras to make them interesting,” Gyuri took a cupcake of her own. 

Yoosung sucked icing off his finger before finally realizing he’d left his manners far behind. Gyuri smiled to herself when she saw Yoosung restrain himself to finishing the cupcake in three bites. To compensate, Yoosung folded the cupcake wrapper into a small square and set it aside.

“Can I have a cookie?” Yoosung’s hand was already reaching.

“Sure. I brought a lot,” Gyuri admitted. “I wasn’t sure…”

Yoosung was barely listening with a cookie halfway into his mouth. Gyuri shook off her thought, finishing, “I wasn’t sure how long you wanted to study.”

“Oh! Sorry,” Yoosung swallowed his mouthful. “I should get started.”

Brushing crumbs off of his hands, Yoosung started copying what Gyuri had rewritten. He had surprisingly neat hand writing, and he worked at a dedicated pace that Gyuri hadn’t expected. 

“Why are you taking linguistics?” Gyuri realized she had never found out why Yoosung was in the class.

“I had a space in my schedule, and both Jumin and Seven suggested it. They don’t agree on anything, so it must be a good idea,” Yoosung flicked a look up at Gyuri. “I’m studying biology, though.”

“Biology?” That was another surprise. “You’re not in computers with Seven?”

“Nah, I only game for fun. I don’t want that to be my _job._ ” Yoosung grimaced at the idea. “Biology has the best labs. Have you seen the rat labs?”

“Not yet?” Gyuri didn’t know there was a rat lab.

“They’re so cuddly!!!” Yoosung explained fondly. “I was thinking of going to veterinary school, but Jumin—Jumin Han, a friend of mine—offered me a place at his company after I graduate.”

“You know Jumin _Han_?” Gyuri must have heard wrong. “Mr. Jumin Han of C&R International?”

“Yeah,” Yoosung jerked his head up at Gyuri’s disbelieving yelp.

“He runs one of the largest conglomerates in South Korea!”

“Uh huh,” Yoosung resumed writing disinterestedly. 

“How do you know _him_?” Gyuri couldn’t reconcile even Neater Yoosung with the photographs of Jumin Han in a perfect suit.

Yoosung stiffened; his shoulders stooped forward to make him shrink. His casual openness snapped closed while he stuck one end of the pencil into his mouth to gnaw. He looked physically ill as he stared down at the notes without reading them.

“Sorry,” Gyuri offered quickly. “That came out wrong.”

“No, it’s ok.” Yoosung shook out his shoulders. “It’s a little complicated. Um, Seven and I did charity work with him a couple years ago. We’re technically part of the same charity organization. Or, we were.”

That didn’t sound complicated. Plenty of students worked for charity organizations to fill out their resume in college. Yoosung jiggled the pencil between his fingers, deep in thought.

“Is that how you met Seven?” Gyuri grouped two things she didn’t understand to break the pause.

“Kind of,” Yoosing bobbed his head back and forth. “It’s a long story, but it’s one of the ways Seven and I became friends.”

Yoosung forced a laugh out of his throat. Now Gyuri believed Yoosung was her age. Forcing a smile through a stiff jaw drew the lines of his face tight to shave away the boyish roundness. It was a bare pain in sharp contrast to Yoosung’s jumbled cheering and ranting. Gyuri wondered where exactly the conversation had gone so sour. She had gotten too comfortable with Yoosung too fast, overstepping some private boundary she hadn’t seen. She couldn’t even be sure what to apologize for.

“Well, if Mr. Jumin Han wants to give you a job, you must be good,” Gyuri offered. “That’s a huge offer.”

Yoosung smiled shakily for Gyuri’s effort. Nibbling on the cookie in place of his pencil, Yoosung evaded, “It’s not a big deal. Jumin gave Seven a job too. Security stuff.”

“He sounds nice?” Gyuri guessed. “Jumin Han, I mean.” 

It was on the tip of Gyuri’s tongue to ask if they were close, but that was treading back on the nebulously dangerous ground. To her relief, Yoosung burst into shaky laughter over her question before she had to fill another pause 

“I wouldn’t say ‘nice.’ Jumin is super intimidating and intense. He’s practically a machine when it comes to work,” Yoosung chuckled more solidly. “But he can be nice in a Jumin-y way. He’s good at connections, business, networking.”

Yoosung smiled with some affection. They must have some person connection for the association to last this long. That must be where Gyuri’s misstep had been.

“I shouldn’t have pried like that,” Gyuri didn’t know what else to apologize for. “You know Jumin Han. That’s cool.” 

“It’s ok, really,” Yoosung held up his hands. “Honestly, it’s kinda weird talking about the Great Jumin Han to people when you’ve seen him obsess over a cat.”

“Elizabeth the 3rd?” Gyuri explained to Yoosung’s surprised look, “He mentions her in interviews. A lot.”

“Of course he does,” Yoosung laughed. “He’d give her a spot on the board of directors if his dad would let him. Dude likes cats better than he likes people. Sorry, I never asked why you were studying International Relations yesterday.”

Gyuri accepted the obvious diversion. It was an easy question with an easy answer: international studies offered the chance to travel as far away as Gyuri could get.

“I like the rules and order of diplomacy,” Gyuri explained. “Theoretical diplomacy, the real thing is a mess.”

“So you want to be a diplomat?”

“Maybe. I like the _idea_ ,” Gyuri always saw it in the future, the hypothetical career. 

“Yeah, I get that,” Yoosung agreed. “Being a vet sounds cool, but the job with Jumin is a real possibility.”

“You could do both?” Gyuri encouraged to make amends. “Get some money and experience at C&R before committing to the whole vet thing.”

“I could,” Yoosung considered the idea. “If Jumin didn’t make me sign a contract for life.”

Yoosung grinned brightly as if nothing had happened. Gyuri smiled back in relief. Whatever nerve she had struck had recovered, and she doubted Yoosung was the type to hold a grudge. Yoosung resumed copying the notes while Gyuri read, the two of them lapsing into a silence broken by turning pages and crunch of sugar cookies. Yoosung was a better study partner than Gyuri had given him credit for. 

“Thanks for these,” Yoosung passed Gyuri’s notes back. “I’ll try to keep up on my own tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gyuri paused before she admitted, “It was nice studying with company.”

“And thank your cousin for the snacks,” Yoosung nodded to the leftovers. “And thank you, also for the snacks.”

Yoosung cast a longing look at the last sugar cookie next to the coffee and green tea cakes. Gyuri fought back a laugh at how fondly he looked at the food. Tucking her book into her bag only to run into the borrowed linguistics book. Turning the book over uncertainly, Gyuri thought of the slow shift that awaited her at the cafe. Jaehee would be crushed if she came home with leftovers, Gyuri convinced herself. And she did owe Yoosung for upsetting him.

“Hey, Yoosung,” Gyuri tucked the book under her arm so she could close the boxes. “You should take these home.”

“I can’t take your notes and your snacks,” Yoosung objected. “I didn’t bring anything for this study party!”

Party? Gyuri didn’t catch a giggle, and she saw Yoosung grin when he heard it. Yoosung was even upbeat about an hour or two of studying. In spite of herself, Gyuri was glad for the exaggeration.Her ties with friends from her old campus had faded between work and distance. She had grown used to interacting with her peers from opposite sides of the cafe counter before waving them out the door. Calling Yoosung a friend, or their quiet studying a party, was undoubtedly an overstatement at this point. But she didn’t mind it very much.

“ _You’d_ be doing _me_ a favor,” Gyuri bargained. “If I take them home I’ll have to take them on the bus , and I’ll just end up eating all of them.”

Stacking the boxes, Gyuri thrust the bag across the table insistently. She imagined she could see Yoosung’s mouth watering.

“Are you sure?” Yoosung hesitantly reached for the bag’s loops.

“Definitely,” Gyuri relinquished the package. Catching the book as it fell from the crook of her arm, Gyuri extended it out beside the bag. “And I think Seven was supposed to give this to you. He let me borrow it.”

Yoosung visibly jumped as if he had been caught in something. He pulled the bag toward him, conspicuously lifting it up and away from the book. Gyuri’s fingers remorsefully pressed tightly to the cover while a swirl of calculations ran through her head. 

“I already have my copy,” Yoosung patted his bag. “Seven picked up an extra, he’s always doing weird stuff like that.”

“Oh. Well, when you see him,” Gyuri gripped the book but tipped it to Yoosung. “Can you give this back? I’d give it back in person, but I don’t know if I’ll have any classes with him.”

“Yeah, that’s, that’s definitely Seven,” Yoosung stuttered awkwardly. “He appears and disappears when he feels like it. I don’t even know when _I’ll_ see him next.”

Yoosung passed the cafe bag from one hand to the other, squirming in his apologetic way. Gyuri braced herself when Yoosung’s hand rose, trying to fight down the kick of relief when the hand passed the book for Yoosung to scratch his head.

“If you still need it for a few days, I don’t think Seven cares if he gets it back,” Yoosung swallowed loudly. “I ordered most of my textbooks late last year, they took some time to come in. Not that, not that _you_ ordered them late, but, Seven said he let you borrow it, so, _if_ you still don’t have yours, I don’t _have_ to take it back. Don’t worry about that, ok? Seven doesn’t want it back either, you can have it.”

Yoosung was getting progressively red, a color which suddenly dropped off to a pale flinch at the end of his ramble. He’d somehow managed to make this more awkward for him despite the humiliating reverse begging Gyuri was stooping to. Gyuri just wanted him to take the book so it was done and she had to move on to thinking up a new solution.

“I can’t keep it,” Gyuri weighed the book in her hand. “It’s worth way too much.”

“I’m sure Seven’d sell it to you!!” Yoosung’s voice cracked. “Seven loves deals like that! I was gonna, I mean I did pay him back for my copy and he couldn’t stop talking about how much stuff he could buy for his ba-cars!!”

Yoosung snapped his fingers in feverish triumph, unaware that he hadn’t solved Gyuri’s problem in the slightest. The amount of money was the same whether she got the textbook now or later. Although, Gyuri and Yoosung both avoided looking at the book between them, Yoosung and Seven might have handed Gyuri a small loophole. Gyuri withdrew the textbook slowly.

“I don’t have that kind of money with me,” Gyuri admitted.

“That’s ok! You can pay Seven back later!” Yoosung tugged at his sleeves. Looking around for help, an escape, or for Seven to appear, Yoosung hit upon the bag he was clutching with white knuckles.

“Oh! Is there a card in here?” Yoosung burrowed into the bag, coming up for air with the cafe’s business card held aloft. “Ooooh, it’s cute! I bet the cafe is cute too, right? I’d love to see it! And I could bring Seven, so you can pay **_him_**! Do you work this weekend?”

Loophole gone. The weekend was two days away, not nearly enough time to recoup Gyuri’s losses and have the money ready, assuming Seven showed up, assuming Yoosung actually brought him, assuming Gyuri didn’t snatch the card and tear it up before Yoosung could memorize it. Yoosung looked at the business card as if it was a holy grail he had personally discovered.

“Yeah…I…do…” Gyuri couldn’t think of an excuse. She lived above the business.

“Great! Do you mind if we stop by? Oh, and Jumin can come too!!” Yoosung seemed to think he was helping, kindly oblivious to Gyuri’s heart plummeting to the earth’s core. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Gyuri begged. Jumin Han was a name in international exports. Jaehee’s cafe was perfectly nice, if you weren’t a multimillionaire. And Gyuri couldn’t see herself recovering from defaulting on a loan as her first introduction to the Han heir.

“Jumin loves coffee,” Yoosung insisted, tucking the card out of reach in his back pocket. This was why he was friends with Seven; he was a co-agent of disaster with a fair facade. Still babbling, Yoosung concluded in a blur, “We can compare notes from tomorrow’s class, too! And I’ll buy the snacks this time.”

It was a speeding train racing out of Gyuri’s control. She had promised to attract customers. She had to pay Seven back. She didn’t want to upset Yoosung again with lame excuses. Sensing victory, Yoosung’s bag was on his shoulder and he was angling for the door.

“Really, it’s fine. If you just, you can just, if you can just give Seven some of those, as a thank you,” Gyuri gestured to the bag of baked goods. “Until I pay him back.”

“Sure! I shouldn’t eat all of them either,” Yoosung admitted. “Is Saturday good, or will it be really busy?”

Taking hints was not Yoosung’s strong suit, obviously.

“Saturday is…fine…” Gyuri tried to imagine Jumin Han walking into the cafe, Seven smirking behind him with an arm over Yoosung’s shoulder. 

“Great!” Yoosung seemed to be trying to escape as much as Gyuri wanted to. “See you tomorrow! I’ll save you a seat.”

Gyuri numbly waved with her free hand back at Yoosung as the blonde man rushed off with the cafe’s bag hugged against his chest. She had come here to solve her problems, and now she had at least the same amount as when she had arrived. Was a renowned business mogul visiting the cafe a problem or a godsend? Given Jumin Han’s association with Yoosung and Seven, Gyuri was suddenly inclined to think the former. Worst of all: Yoosung  _was_ the closest thing she had to a friend here. How had that happened?


End file.
